


Ice

by newt_scamander



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2015-04-13
Packaged: 2018-03-14 16:25:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3417518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newt_scamander/pseuds/newt_scamander
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Project Insight fails the Asset is alone. He doesn't know where he is really or what to do. But he knows he has to find the one with the blonde hair- the Mission.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

It started with ice. Always with ice. Ice on the tip of his nose and his fingers and easing the pain in his left arm. Ice and metal- his prison between missions and it's so cold but is that because he's on ice or because he's alone? He never did like to be alone. 

Ice again when the helicarrier falls out of the sky. The water this time. It's freezing. His skin tingles but he's fighting the urge to let his muscles relax and sink back into the water. He's gotta save this guy- even though he's got no clue his significance. But he knows he's important. Had to be. Otherwise his heart wouldn't beat so fast and his fingers wouldn't shake and he would've killed him. The fact that his instincts wouldn't let him meant something. How many times... No. Stop it. 

He made himself stop- splashing ice water on his face. Always with ice.


	2. Maneuvers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Asset's journey through DC and a bit of understanding in himself and humanity.

The Asset's first stop after the Potomac was base. He needed servicing on his arm, his shoulder needed resetting and he needed a revised mission. Only problem? The base was locked up- windows shattered, lights off, deserted. That scared him a bit- what was he supposed to do now? He needed reprogramming, needed his arm fixed, his shoulder was killing him and who was that man that man thatmanthatmanthatma- 

The Asset's next memory was an alley. Filthy and reeking of fish and cat stench. His neck ached and his stomach was empty. First operative- food. 

He looked down at his Kevlar. Threatening. Perhaps not the best look if he needed to gain sympathy- how else was he to get currency for food? He removed the vest, threw it away. His pants were intact so he kept them. His metal arm was a bit of a distraction so he lumbered out of the alley, searching for some sort of covering. 

A small box, overflowing with odds and ends, was his salvation. The Asset retrieved a soft blue zip-up jacket and pulled it on. The hood came over his head but he still took a hat- black. He jammed it on his head and stuffed his hands inside his pockets. Better.

He looked around the streets. One of the corners was adorned with a case- a guitar case- and passerby were dropping money into it as the apparent owner strummed on his instrument. But he couldn't play an instrument. Another option then. 

Looking more intensely now, he spotted several men and a few women- most accompanied by shopping carts- holding little paper cups. Some dropped change into the receptacles, others paper currency and still others passed by without a glance to those on the pavement. Perhaps. 

The Asset watched carefully as a man holding a cell phone walked past a particularly poor looking man, his paper cup nearly empty. The man shook his cup with hope in his eyes, a slight smile on his weary face. The cell phone man kicked at the other, breaking the cup and scattering the change. The Asset wasted no time- cornering the cell phone man in the next alley and ending his pitiful existence. In the pocket of his expensive blazer the Asset found a wallet with several bills- each marked with a 100. 

The Asset took the wallet and tucked it into his jacket pocket, kicking the body under a dumpster. When he walked past the man with the paper cup he dropped three bills into his cup and kept walking. The man let out an exclamation and tried to call out but the Asset was already lost in the crowd. He checked the wallet and counted seventeen bills, each marked with a 100. 1,700. Why was that man carrying this much money? The Asset shrugged and continued walking, looking for someplace inconspicuous to stop and eat. He found a café and ordered a small sandwich and black coffee. The coffee hit the back of his throat and triggered a memory- a blurred face and skinny fingers wrapped around a coffee cup. A laugh. Blonde hair. Like the Mission's. The Asset shook himself, eating the food quickly and leaving the café. 

He had no idea where to go. His arm's pain has dulled to a slight twinge and he figured that his metal arm's glitches could be dealt with until he found a place to bunk down. Second operative- refuge. 

He didn't know if someone would come to find him. He knew that he didn't want that. Someone finding him would only result in punishment, reassignment, perhaps a return to cryo. He detested the metallic cylinder surrounding him, the ice creeping up his arms and chilling his toes. That couldn't happen. No. 

The Asset's path led him to a bus station. The crowd thinned there, at the schedule screen. A bus to New York struck him as a good idea- something stirring inside him, a name. Brooklyn. The Asset made his way to the ticket desk and bought one for Brooklyn- the name made his blood boil. A sector apparently. He paid for the ticket and boarded the bus, pulling his hood down tightly over his head and slumping into farthest seat, making himself very small. 

He would not return. Not be a tool, not be tortured. He was his own.


	3. shower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> he makes it to brooklyn

The bus ride wasn't easy. Crying infants, rude passengers and confused children wondering why their magnetic headphones stuck to the side of the Asset's hoodie. He calmly detached them and gave the tangled wires back, tucking himself back up- into safety and warmth and anonymity. The Asset was glad when the bus finally rumbled to a halt and chugged one last time. He waited for everyone else to disembark, wanting to avoid contact. 

The sky was dark, the bus station clean and cool. The main lobby was empty aside from the janitor mopping at the day's grime. The Asset merely nodded when the man waved- his eyes were kind and his smile unwarranted but nonetheless duly appreciated. 

He left the station, stomach rumbling. The money in his pocket was a reassurance as he walked down the dark, quiet street. 

Something prompted him to check the alleys as he walked- nothing there obviously, but he couldn't shake the feeling of some unknown danger. 

As he checked one- next to an old movie theater, metal trashcans still capped with their lids- he had to catch himself on the brick wall, his brain flooded with images of a scrawny body, a bigger one beating on the littler one. The small body collected in his arms and staining his shirt with blood. 

The Asset slid down the wall, breathing heavily. The memories were getting stronger, leaving more lasting imprints. It was starting to scare him.

The Asset managed to pull himself together, steady his breathing and stand. His stomach was rumbling. But he had no place to bunk down for the night. First operative- shelter. 

The Asset wandered the streets of Brooklyn, looking for alcoves or niches. He was familiar with less than humane conditions- who was going to treat a monster with the kindness of a soft bed? The cushion of the seat on the charter bus was the first comfort he'd had in years. 

After wandering the streets for an hour the Asset found a sketchy looking hotel. 

"Cash only." The host mumbled through a plexiglass window. 

"H-how much." The Asset's voice was gravelly and the two words hurt his throat. 

"50 for the night. 10 for the shower." 

A shower. That sounded good. 

The Asset handed over sixty dollars and took his key. The host directed him down the hall, told him where to get towels and to put the chain on the door. The Asset nodded his hand and walked down the hall to his room. 

It wasn't bad. The window was covered with a thin layer of grime and there were some cracks in the window but the sheets looked clean. He peeled the jacket off and folded it, setting it at the foot of his bed. 

The Asset left his room and grabbed a towel from the closet as the host had instructed. The shower was at the end of the hall, in a room that smelled strongly of bleach. The Asset entered and shut the door behind him, turning the lock. He undressed, turning the water on and stepping into the shower. 

It was cold. Ice cold that went straight to his bones and set his teeth chattering. He felt overwhelmed and scared and an incredible sense of foreboding- as if someone was coming to get him. He fell out of the shower, gasping for breath and clawing at the tiled floor. 

The Asset wasn't ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! I had my ACT and the EPA and ridiculous stuff but here's chapter three! Hope you enjoyed!

**Author's Note:**

> First full length Stucky fic! Enjoy!


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